


Chains and Collars

by Skeletonbrothersreptilelovers



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Underswap, Assault, F/M, Mentions of other mental problems, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader Has Issues, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, SlaveTale, Slavery, Slaves, Slaveswap, Slow Burn, Violence, mentions of depression, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-05 16:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14622489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeletonbrothersreptilelovers/pseuds/Skeletonbrothersreptilelovers
Summary: When you thought about it, you weren’t surprised that this happened. You knew the world had never changed it ways.Humans are simple and complex at the same time – both predictable and unpredictable. It all depended on what the topic was.The most predictable things are their need for power and the need for control. When humans feel like these things are being threatened in even the smallest ways, they’ll stop at nothing to make themselves feel superior again.Another predictable, yet a little less so, was slavery. Humans have always had slaves, ever since the very first recorded history of time.So, yeah, you weren’t surprised. You weren’t surprised humans felt threatened by monsters. You weren’t surprised when humans felt the need to remind themselves that they were the most powerful. You weren’t surprised when humans took control of the situation. You definitely weren’t surprised about the slavery.However, you are surprised by the outcome of it all.(Inspired by SlaveTale by V_mum)





	1. What Humans do best

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [SlaveTale](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370509) by [V_mum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_mum/pseuds/V_mum). 



> First off, thanks for taking the time to read my story!  
> Second, please bear with me on this. I know I'm not the best writer. I even know where I lack in some places. I promise I'll try my best to fix and edit everything so it's a lot better and easier to read. I just ask that you please give me feedback on how I do, that way I know what I'm doing wrong and hopefully fix. If you see any errors, tell me! I wont be mad. I've only recently started writing stories. I've written maybe one or two in the past, but not enough to say I have any experience with it. That's why there'll be so many errors.
> 
> I'm going to try and post at least once a week. I might post more than one, but I'll always try to post at least one a week.
> 
> Anyways, this fiction is heavily inspired by SlaveTale by V_mum and I 11/10 recommend you go read that stories too. It's a lot more chapters in and it's also amazing. 
> 
> Also my tumblr is https://skeletonbrothersreptilelovers.tumblr.com/

Slavery was not a new concept to humans. Since the beginning of history, slavery has been around. Slavery still existed in modern time, but people typically chose not to acknowledge the fact. People even occasionally put a new name on it and deemed it perfectly fine, like children. That’s a joke… Mostly.

Humans love to turn to slavery. It made them feel powerful, and it made it easier for them. Why do the work when you can own someone to do it for you, and you still make money?

You had thought humans had mostly gotten over this concept. You knew slavery still existed in other places. You also knew that slavery was around you, just hidden away in the darkness of the most unexpected homes. People were still getting arrested for sex trafficking, and the news still had stories of people getting busted out of a house after being forced to stay there for eighteen years. Some would even say that we, the people, were slaves to the government.

However, no matter the type of slavery, it was always hidden. No one openly owned a slave out in the open for fear of being prosecuted. You had been proud of that fact. You hated that slavery still existed at all, but at least it wasn’t common and was considered unjust.

At least, it was. Until about a year ago. A year after monsters came to be.

It was a normal day when it happened. You remember it in oddly well detail. It had been a beautiful day outside; it was warm with a slight breeze, birds had been out and about, and the sky was clear of clouds. You had been sitting out on your balcony, enjoying the temperature and the laughter of the children – who were playing in the park beside your apartment –  while sipping a cool glass of wine. It had been the perfect peaceful day.

Then the army drove by, demanding citizen to get into their homes and lock the doors as they went. No one argued. It wouldn’t be until later that day that the news of monsters coming out of the monsters would make itself known. You remember being both intrigued and apprehensive.

It had taken months before monsters were allowed out into the public. You remembered the feeling of exhilaration when you went to the event they set up for humans and monsters to mingle before allowing them to move into the city the next day; a trial, you could say.

Monsters were a friendly and peaceful species. They were willing to give up all their history and knowledge of healing, science, magic, and souls to us. All they asked for in return was to be able to live free on the surface with us. It was that same knowledge they shared with us that became their downfall no even a full year of being allowed in public.

They said it was for the best. That monsters were more powerful than humans, and they would have taken over the human race eventually. They explained both the disadvantages of monsters being free and the benefits of monsters being slaves – they avoided saying things about why it would be good or beneficial for them to be free.

Your gut still lurches whenever you think of what happened next. Mothers begging to remain with their children, fathers being turned to dust trying to protect their families. Siblings had their hands ripped away from each other, the younger ones’ cries for their older sibling ignored. Monsters shot down, dusk flying everywhere-- the horrible joke of “looks like a sandstorm out tonight” told by the reporter like it was amusing.

The worst part, you believe, was the fact that little to nobody did anything to stop it. The protests had been so small and only happened once or twice.  There had been more who cared about the monster’s freedom. You knew more who had cared – who still cared. However, everyone knew humans were followers by nature. There weren’t enough people with loud voices for the people with smaller voices to be brave enough to speak up. So many people felt they were the only ones who cared, so they felt it pointless to try and change anything. You wanted to be mad, but it’d be hypocritical of you. You never once uttered a word in their defense – at least not when or where it mattered.

Eventually, you gained the courage to voice your opinion, but it was too late. Your efforts were pointless. You waited until people no longer cared. You hadn’t meant to wait so long. You had been going through things during the chaos and had felt so helpless and useless. Who would listen to a girl who was a disgrace to the world? How could you save thousands of lives when you could barely keep your own? How could you force the world to change when you couldn’t even force yourself out of bed? These are the things that you constantly told yourself while you laid in bed and covered your ears to block out the screams of monsters.

You had hated yourself for it. You still hate yourself. You now let people who care – and occasionally who don’t care – know how you felt about monsters being slaves to try and make up for it. It was too late to change anything, but you’d do anything to quiet down your guilt-ridden mind even by the tiniest amount.

Most times, you’re soberly defending monsters’ rights with anyone who cares to listen, always bringing up valid points as to why it’s wrong; 80% of people stop the conversation with a thoughtful look while the others either don’t care or were pissed off. Sometimes, you’re intoxicated and loudly voicing your opinion in a bar where everyone gives absolute zero fucks about it before being kicked out.

Currently, you’re doing the latter. You went way over your alcohol limit a long time ago. You could barely put words together to form sentences, and you keep slurring your speech. No one can understand what you’re saying, but they’re still pissed because you do this every week, so they know what you’re trying to say.

“I swear to fucking god I will kill this chick if ya don’t get her outta here!”

You try saying something along the lines of ‘thought fucking god was a sin’ but it was too slurred to be understood. Two men – they both work at the bar, typically cleaning tables and getting rid of troublemakers – roughly grab you by your upper arm. You start struggling against them as they pull you towards the exit. You try to speak again by saying something like ‘I have rights you know! Like monsters should!’ before you forget what is happening and start loudly complaining about the monsters’ situation again.

The two men throw you onto the paved alleyway harshly, causing you to hiss in pain when the rough surface scrapes your hands when you put them out to stop your fall. You try to stand but give up after the sixth attempt. You drag yourself to the alley wall and lean against it. What were you supposed to do when you were piss drunk and couldn’t get yourself home? You couldn’t remember. Wasn’t something like hug a tree and wait for an adult to find you?

…

Oh right, you were an adult. You already found yourself, now all you need is a tree. Or a nap. A nap sounds good right about now. You knew it was dangerous for to take a nap in the city, but you didn’t really care in your drunken state. You reposition yourself to lay down on the cool ground, which felt amazing against your burning skin and put your arm over your eyes to block out the setting sunlight. You close your eyes.

 

…

 

You open them. You don’t know how long you slept, or if you even slept at all. You figure you had since you know you aren’t as drunk as you were (but still pretty drunk) before you had first closed your eyes, and the fact that it was a lot darker outside. You groan as you push yourself to a sitting position against the alley wall. Your muscles and head were protesting with your every movement. What the hell woke you up anyway?

As if on queue, you hear a weak cry for help. Suddenly, you were on your feet (for the second time after you had fallen on your ass the first for standing too quickly) and heading towards one end of the alleyway. You stumble when you walk so you use the wall to help steady yourself. At the end of the dirty alley, there are more alleys connected to it. You cautiously peek around the corner while trying (and failing) to keep quiet and hidden. You feel your heart drop at what you see.

A cream-colored bunny monster was on the ground. They are clutching a bag of groceries tightly against their chest, trying their best to protect it from the blows of a human who towered over them. The human was repeatedly kicking the monsters in the stomach with their hands against the stone wall above them, effectively trapping them even if they decided – or managed –  to stand.

“This will teach you to ever leave without your owner again, you filthy animal!” The man snarls at the monster, laughing as he harshly kicks the monster again. You felt like you were going to vomit for an entirely different reason than being drunk.

“P-please… I have permission. She ordered me to go get her… her groceries.” The monster, a female of her voice indicated anything, manages to force the words out. She had to pause when the man kicked her in the middle of her sentence.

“Shut the hell up with your dumbass excuses!” He snaps at her, kicking her harder than he had before.

“HEY!” Both eyes were on you suddenly; one hopeful and pleading and the other very _very_ pissed.

“This ain't none of your business, lady. Beat it.” He says as he turns his attention back to the rabbit. You didn’t give him enough of a chance to do anything though.

You have many reasons as to why it’s bad for you to get drunk. First, you never knew when to shut the hell up. Second, you tend to make bad choices. Third, you already made impulsive decisions sober, so drunk you is way worse when it comes to impulsive decisions. All that adds up to what you do next. You decide the best course of action is to fucking tackle a guy at least a foot taller than you. You almost don’t grab him with how wobbly your movements are.

“You fucking bitch!”

He quickly got the upper hand in the situation and had you on the ground. You couldn’t fight back, and you probably wouldn’t have fought back if you could. You simply block what blows you can and take the ones you can’t in stride. Your drunken mind blocks out most the pain anyways.

It didn’t last long. Maybe the guy realizes that since you weren’t a monster, he’d get in trouble if someone found out. So after a minute or two, the guy bails and leaves you laying on your back. You couldn’t tell if you were too drunk to feel the hits, if the guy was weaker than you originally thought, or if the soreness of sleeping on the hard ground for a while masked the pain of getting your ass beat. You were sure you’d feel it in the morning.

“Are you okay?” Suddenly, your vision was filled with cream fur and floppy ears. Her nose was bloody, and she was trembling with either fear or shock, yet her eyes only held concern for you.  Her concern only seems to grow when you don’t respond properly, choosing to instead give her a small ‘mhmm’.

“You don’t look okay. Your eyes aren’t focused and your breathing is all wacky. Also, I’m pretty sure blood is supposed to stay inside the human body, much like dust is supposed to stay attached to a monster’s.” She hesitantly, gently runs her soft paws over your cheek, pulling it away to reveal a stain of red on her paws. You suddenly become aware of how cold you are when she pulled away.

“M’ a lil drunk is all. Also just took a beating. M’ fine though. Use to it.” You mumble quietly. You try to push yourself off the ground but the bunny monster quickly ceases your movement.

“Hang on there. You’re injured, you shouldn’t be moving.” She gently chides, but you ignore her in favor of moving closer to her warmth. She startles slightly when you wrap your arms gently around her waist and lay your head in her lap, careful of her stomach.

“So warm…” You murmur. The bunny careful lays her arm on top of you. You couldn’t see it, because you had closed your eyes, but she was looking at you with great concern.

She sighs softly. She wants to help you somehow. You had helped her, after all, and it’s rare to find someone willing to help a monster these days. She felt both grief, anger, and helplessness grip her chest at the thought of how monsters are treated nowadays. You are a rare gem among a cave filled with dull rocks, and she hopes that you’re the same way sober.

The beeping of her collar spooks her. She suddenly realizes how little time she has to help you. Soon, her collar will reorder her to return home – her owner set her collar to give the order every night at twelve. The beep she just heard was the warning beep to say that she only had thirty minutes left until twelve.

She gently shakes you a couple of times, but the only response she gets is a tiny snore. However, her shaking causing something to fall out of your pants pocket and clatter on the ground. It was your phone. She reaches for it, wincing when her stomach protests the movement. She already knew that it was going to be a painful trip home.

She lets out a sigh of relief when your phone unlocks without the need for a passcode. She takes a moment to glance at your home screen photo – it was a picture of you and an older lady with a cat snuggled in between the two of you – before going to contacts. She scrolls until she sees a contact labeled Mother dearest. She really hopes that your mother was a kind lady who cares about you. She has had many owners whose parents could care less about what happened to their children. It rings a few times without anyone picking up, and she suddenly realizes the time. Would anyone on her contacts even be awake? It was almost twelve after all.

“Do you have any idea what time it is, young lady? You should be at home!” A groggy voice berates through the phone, almost causing her to drop it. They sound like they have just been woken up, which was probably the case.

“U-um. Hello? This is… This is Beatrix. Your daughter kinda needs your help? She uh… She isn’t too good right now.” She says with great hesitation.

“What? What’s wrong?” The former angry tone of the lady is instantly replaced with great concern. The grogginess of her voice before was cleared, and now all that was left was a silvery voice.

“I’m pretty sure she’s drunk. I wasn’t around when she was drinking, but she said she was drunk. She also got into a fight with a pretty strong man. She helped me so… So I’m doing the best I can to help her back, but I’m running out of time. I’m ordered to return home at twelve.” She speaks more clearly this time. Your mother sighs deeply.

“So you’re a monster? Can’t say I’m surprised that this happened then, especially since she was drunk… Just, stay with her? For as long as possible? And please try to keep her awake in case of head injury. Just send me your location through text and I’ll be on my way.” She says before hanging up.

Beatrix shakes you awake afterward, more roughly than she had before. You weren’t happy in the slightest, but you listen to her plea for you to stay awake. She talks to you for a while, repeatedly thanking you for helping her and promising that if she ever got the chance, she’d do more to repay you. She didn’t stay long because of her collar, but she made sure to help you into a position against the wall so you’d be more comfortable – even if it caused her pain to do so. You instantly miss the warmth she provided and seriously regret not grabbing your jacket before leaving the house earlier.

You hear light footsteps make their way to you, the sound so familiar that you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

“Hey…” You say in a sheepish tone. Despite being drunk, you always felt shame whenever your mom had to come get you. She never judges or gets upset with you, but you know she is disappointed each time you have to make a call. Your mother was too understanding and sweet to be mad.

“_____, baby, you look horrible! Are you alright?” You finally look up at her face when she crouches in front of you, gently resting her soft hands on your cheek. She was scanning over you with concern-filled eyes, gently tilting your head at different angles.

Your mother was beautiful. You sometimes could swear you saw waves moving in her eyes, her skin was clear and mostly wrinkle-free, and her hair was healthy and beautiful – even with the few gray strands that were starting to show, but they somehow added onto her beauty in your opinion. Even right now, with her hair hastily throw into a bun and still in her pajamas, you felt like she could still make guys heart pound.

You don’t get the chance to respond to her question before she is putting her arm under yours and helping you stand. She helps you stay steady and walks at a slow pace, patiently helping you out as she always does when this happens.

“You’re going to be the reason I look eighty at forty-four, you heathen.” Your mother chides playfully, trying to lighten the mood. You could tell she was worried by the crease of her eyebrows. She helps you get into the passenger side of her car, buckling you up because she knew you’d take forever to do it on your own.

“I have some monster medicine at home. You didn’t look or act like you had any head injuries so you should be fine. You’re mostly just dirty with a bloody lip. I assumed it was a lot worse.” She says while fiddling with her car. You make a displeased expression at the idea of taking monster medicine. It was one of the things monsters had freely given humans before they decided to enslave monsters, and you felt like you, or anybody for that matter, didn’t deserve it. You’ll still take it, but you won't like it.

The drive to your mother's house didn’t take long, or maybe it did and you just fell asleep without realizing it. Either way, she has you through the door and upstairs pretty quickly. Your head was starting to pound, and you were starting to feel the effects of getting the shit beat of out you. Your arms were sore from blocking the blows, your lip and cheek stung from where he manages to get a hit in, your head was pounding from either the alcohol or fighting, and your entire backside was sore from sleeping on the hard pavement. Your hands also hurt from where you were thrown to the ground.

She leaves you to go back downstairs, probably to get the medicine, so you strip your filthy clothes off and snuggle under the blankets in your old room. Your mother returns not long after, chuckling softly as you complain about how it was unfair for monsters again. She has heard this many times, both while you were drunk and sober, yet she still listens to you each time you repeat yourself.

“I know sweetie, I know.” She says softly, running her hands through your hair. You might’ve been an adult, but you’d always be her child. She starts to murmur your favorite lullaby – the one she created for you when you were younger. You always believed that the song was magic because it always made your eyes heavy, even when you were fighting sleep. You weren’t fighting sleep though, so the song was quickly having the desired effect.

“Love you….” You barely manage to murmur before you finally fall into your final sleep for the day.


	2. Broken Bones and Homes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You sleep at your mother’s at the same night your uncle decides to visit. He has always had anger problems but you could deal with that because he tries his best to fix it. You can’t deal with the fact he has a slave to use as a punching bag for his anger problems.  
> “I always thought you better than this!”  
> “I’m sorry. You’re right. You take it.”  
> “What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this at 12:30 so I only skimmed over it for errors. I was going to wait until tomorrow that way I could read over it better but I think it should be fine. I'll just fix any errors if I see any tomorrow. The only thing that should be wrong with it is that I didn't read over it to see if there were any sentences I could improve or needed to remove. Sorry in advance to people who read this and find errors or have to read a poorly made sentence!  
> Anyways, glad you can make it to chapter two! I hope you enjoy ^^  
> As always, you're welcome to and encouraged to point out any errors or tell me ways to improve my writing.

There are many reasons as to why you shouldn’t drink alcohol. You were reckless, impulsive, loud-mouthed, and unwise when under the influence, and you couldn’t walk,  see straight, or speak. However, out of all those reasons not to drink, the only thing that really makes you hesitate to walk into a bar is thought of the day after. You always felt like complete shit.

You groan miserably when your body refuses to remain asleep anymore. Your head felt like your brain was trying to split your skull into two and break free, and your body felt like it had been through hell and back – twice. You must have been because you could still taste the sickly sweet medicine – you must have forgotten to get a drink after taking it – and it should’ve healed your body completely. The alcohol probably interfered with it last night.

Speaking of last night, you couldn’t remember anything that happened last night.  The last thing you recall was someone roughly grabbing your arms, and even that was a little blurry. After that, everything is too fuzzy, and you can only remember bits and pieces.

You squeeze your eyes shut tightly and groan again when the light suddenly filters out the darkness of the room. You hear a soft ‘meow’ coming from the doorway. You already knew that meant Tinkle – an old, brown Maine Coon that your mom has had since you were thirteen – was coming to pay a visit. She got the name after she showed how unsatisfied she was with your mother for her first bath. You had been thinking of a name for a week and decided that Tinkle would fit perfect afterward. Tinkle must come to the conclusion you’re still asleep because she isn’t there anymore when you brave a peak to the light.

You sigh deeply before turning over and burrowing your face into the fluffy pillow. The pillow was a bright blue color and had a huge white butterfly in the middle of it, and it pretty much matched the rest of the room. Bright blue walls and curtains, white carpet, and white furniture – all covered in either blue or white butterflies. It was your mom’s old decorations from when she was young. Her parents had moved it all back in after your mother moved out because they missed her, and claimed the room made them feel like she was still a little girl who was just over at friend’s house for the night. You had decided to keep it since it made you feel safe because it was just like your mom to have this kind of room as a little girl. It was exactly your mom had it arranged when she was little (at least from her parents’ memory), besides the few drawings you had drawn and stuck to the wall.

You take a few more minutes in bed before your headache is too much. You force yourself to sit up on the edge of the bed. You were about to stand and get some pain relievers and water, but stop when you notice both things on the nightstand beside you. God or whoever bless you your mom for her sweet soul.

You take a couple of minutes to let the medicine settle in before getting out of bed, muscles still weakly protesting against moving. You figure a walk around the house would probably help clear your headache faster. You leave the room and head downstairs, stopping only briefly to listen to your mom’s conversation. Not in an ‘invading privacy’ kinda way, you just wanted to know who else was here. You quickly determined that one of the unknown – now known – voices belonged to your uncle Jo, but there was a soft murmur of some other voice you couldn’t figure out. You decide it isn’t any of your business at the moment and head out the back door that leads to a flower garden. All kinds of flowers fill the garden – from prickly roses to sweet-smelling lavenders.  It was the main attraction, apart from the Weeping Willow that was outside the garden gates, to the home since the rest was falling apart.

Not literally, it was just really old but still sturdy. The yellow paint on the outside was peeling in all kinds of places, as well as the white paint on the fence surrounding the garden, and the garden gate was barely holding on by one hinge. Some of the roof tiles were missing or barely hanging on.

The swing that was attached to a huge Weeping Willow was broke with only one rope desperately clinging to one of the branches. Your mother’s parents’ ashes had been mixed with the soil to plant the Willow. They said that they wanted to the tree to be used to hold a swing or tree house so they could still do something with their grandchildren after they were gone. You had never met them, but you knew you would’ve loved them. The tree house in the tree was also old but somehow managed to survive all the hard conditions it was put through. You go up there occasionally when you want to hide from the world.

You would think it was an ugly, old, broken down house, but it wasn’t. The old and brokenness of it all somehow adds to the charm of it all. It was a warm and welcoming old home, the kind you went to and expected a happy old lady to pop out with cookies to share with you. This place was the only place that filled you with hope of the future, because if this two-story house could survive three generations, harsh storms, and anything threw at it this long, then so can you.

You would’ve stayed out there all day, but a glass shattering inside the house startles you out of your daze. Suddenly, now that you weren’t daydreaming, you could hear angry yelling coming from your uncle and your mom panicked voice yelling at him to stop. You felt your chest grip with panic, old memories rushing back. Suddenly, a deeper voice is replacing your uncle’s, and your mother’s voice is suddenly pleading rather than panicked.

You don’t know how long you sit there, trembling, and unable to move to help. It wasn’t until you felt Tinkle's sharp claws dig into your legs in order to climb up that you were able to move (although you were still trembling and had tears leaking from your eyes). You quickly grab Tinkle so she wouldn’t hurt her brittle bones trying to climb up. You didn’t comfort her though, you simply set her back on the ground and set a fast pace to the house.

You knew your uncle wasn’t doing anything bad now that you were out of that bad state – at least, not to your mother. He has horrible anger issues, but he never hurt people as far as you knew. He just childishly threw shit around, the apologized profusely because he truly doesn’t mean to lose his temper. He wasn’t a bad guy – just an angry one.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to throw your mom’s stuff around. He wasn’t even angry at your mom half the time he did it – most the time he was angry at something job related, and your mom stuff was just in the way. You just normally was in the room when it happened, and also paying attention. Not seeing it and being caught off guard is what sent you into a panic. You were still incredibly anxious despite knowing everything was okay.

Except, everything was not okay when you walked in. Your mom had your uncle by the long sleeve of his button up, and she was holding him back from striking a monster. He held an old cane, that was usually leaning against the fireplace, in the air. He jerks his arm free, causing your mother to trip backwards, moves towards the monster that was curled up on the floor – A skeleton.

You felt the panic return full force, but not of fear for yourself.

“Don’t _move._ ” Your uncle orders, and you felt sick when you saw the collar flash red once. That indicated the order was understood. He brings his raised arm down.

 

 

_Crack!_

 

 

You getting drunk wasn’t a good idea for many reasons. You’ve gone over the reasons a million times to yourself.

However, being drunk right now sure as hell would’ve helped deal with what happened next.

 

“Mother of fuck!” You instantly release the cane and held your wrist in pain. That crack was _not_ a good sign. You reached out your hand almost a second too late and grabbed the cane, stopping it in the process. However, as soon as the cane met your hand you felt a white hot pain shoot up your entire arm. You felt tears forcefully well up in your eyes, adding to the tear streaks that was already on your face.

“My baby!” Your mother was at your side in an instant.

“Shit, ____!” Your uncle’s anger was gone as soon as he realizes your hurt, but you angle your body away from him with a glare.

“Fuck. Off.” You snarl at him, cradling your injured wrist close to your chest. Your mom very gently took your hand in hers and inspected it, shushing you soothingly when you hiss and wince.

“Don’t get mad at me. I wasn’t trying to hurt you! What in the world were you thinking?” Your uncle chides you like you were in the wrong for protecting someone innocent.

“What was _I_ thinking? What the hell were you thinking! You probably broke my fucking wrist which was protected by skin and muscles. Can you imagine what it would’ve done to them? They are a _skeleton_.” You snap at him, your glare intensifying. He glares back this time.

“So fucking what? I can do whatever the fuck I want! He’s _my_ monster!” Suddenly, you were on your feet. Your mother goes to stop you but pulls back. She knew she couldn’t do anything about this situation now. You felt adrenaline pump through your veins in response to your anger, and you could barely feel the pain in your wrist anymore because of it.

“Fuck you, _Josephine_! You’re a fucking asshole! He’s not just some piece of property for you to throw around! He’s an actual person!” Your uncle visibly bristles at the mention of his full name.

“He’s not a fucking person! He’s a _monster_! There’s a collar around his neck for a reason!” Your uncle was full on angry. You could see his hands clench and unclench with the need to break something. You feel tears angry tears drip down your cheeks.

“Monsters are just like humans, just kinder! Y-you… You’re such a piece of shit!” Your voice cracks at the end, and you could feel yourself tremble. _Don’t break down,_ you told yourself, _don’t._

“Well, you should get use to the idea of monsters being below humans. I need mine to deal with my anger issues.” You felt your heart squeeze at that.

“…I always thought you were better than this..” You murmur quietly before raising your voice, “I always thought you were better than _this_! But you’re not! You’re just like him!” You lash out, shoving him harshly in the chest. His expression turns shocked as he loses his balance and stumbles back, barely managing to stop himself from falling. “I thought you were better than him… But I was wrong.”

The entire room was silent except for you sniffling. You quickly try to wipe all the tears away but it was useless. For each tear you wiped, two more appeared.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Your uncle says in a meek tone. You don’t answer him because you don’t forgive him.

“I’m so sorry… I… Fuck, shit. You’re right….” His quiet was still quiet as he spoke, his eyes refusing to meet yours. Everyone goes quiet for a minute or two before your uncle lets out a deep sigh.

“____.” He in an authoritative tone. You flinch and turn to glare at him, but he still isn’t looking at you.

“____.... I’m sorry. You’re right. You take it.”

Your whole world stops.

“ _What_?”

“You heard me. You take i- Him. You take him. I… I’m not a good person, I haven’t been for a while. I’m only realizing that now though, thanks to you. The least I can do before is do my best to correct my errors, starting by getting rid of him. He should be given to someone who’ll respect him though, not just to someone else who’d treat him like I did.” You are shaking your head the entire time.

“No. No, no, no, no, no. I can’t- I don’t want- I won't own a monster!” You say incredulously, completely repulsed by the idea.

“ _____._ Would you rather me sell him off like some animal? Or put him in an audition like some object?”

“No, but-”

“Would you like me to sell him to some stranger that may or may not be kind?”

“Of course no-”

“Do you want me to keep him with the chance- no, with me going to for sure lose my cool again?”

“ _No._ ”

“What do you want me to do?” Your uncle was staring straight at you now.

You went to speak, but you stop. What _did_ you want him to do? He had given all available options. You couldn’t set him free, the collar would kill him instantly if you tried to cut it off. Even if it didn’t, it would send an alert to the authorities and they’d hurt him down and kill him. If that didn’t happen, humans are a shitty race. He’d have no way to eat, to make money, or to get shelter.

You were at a complete loss. It was against your entire being to own a monster- but you weren’t really _owning_ him, were you? Maybe legally, with paperwork, but you could give him free rein and give no orders ever.

You glance over at the monster in question, jumping back with a startle when you make direct eye contact. His eyes were pitch black yet you knew he was looking directly at you. You could feel it. It felt like he was staring directly into you, and you could feel all your sins crawling on you back. You come to a decision then.

“Fine. Better with me than you.” You say bitterly, still angry at him. You don’t think you’d be able to completely squash this anger, not even if he was the one to free the monsters. You’d always have that bitterness there. He’s the one to flinch at your tone this time but nods his head at your words.

“Alright,” he says before turning to the skeleton man, “Papyrus.”

The skeleton, Papyrus, turns to your uncle, staring at him just slightly more harshly than he was staring at me.

“Papyrus the Skeleton, I am no longer your owner. _____ ______ is now your new owner. You will follow her around until the paperwork is complete and your collar is updated to officially state she is your new owner.” You felt your skin crawl at being called ‘owner’.

The way of selling, giving, or trading monsters are pretty simple. First, someone repeats the words your uncle spoke except the names changing accordingly. The monster would follow the new owner and do what the new owner orders, but the old owner could still overwrite it if they wanted to. The new owner won't officially be the owner of that monster until everyone involved goes to an MOT – Monster Ownership Trade – and signs the paper. This way people can’t be forced into giving their monsters to someone. If someone forces someone else to give their monsters to them, they can go to an MOT and report it, in which they’ll send a digital command for the monster to go to said MOT.

“I guess it’s done then.” You say. You didn’t really know how to feel about all of this.

“Buttercup?” You turn to your mother, who is looking at you with concern. She puts something in your hands before you can say anything. You look down to see two green healing pills, and you’re suddenly reminded of the pain in your wrist again. You don’t bother complaining about them this time as you’re completely drained, and your wrist was in serious pain. You let out a relieved sigh when the pain in your wrist goes away.

“I’m going home. Thanks for last night mom.” You tell her as you lean in to kiss her cheek. She grabs ahold of you and pulls you into a tight hug.

“Anytime, baby girl. You be safe, okay? I’ll be here, having a talk with my brother.” Your mom’s tone turns sharp at the end. The man the tone was directed at looks away from the two of you.

“I will.” You felt better in your mother’s arms and was almost tempted to stay in them. You knew she wouldn’t complain if you ask her. You reluctantly pull away from her.

“Are you… Do you want to come? I mean, I don’t know where else you’d go but… You don’t have to.” You say with hesitation. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do.

“Don’t got anywhere else to be, bud.” You jump at his voice, not expecting him to talk after all this time of being silent.

“Oh! Uh- Yeah, I guess that true.” You clear your throat, feeling extremely awkward.

You point your thumb towards the door behind you, “the car is this way.” You say your goodbye to your mother one last time, pointedly ignoring your uncle’s goodbye. You walk out the door in deep thought, Papyrus not too far behind you.

What are you going to do? You barely make enough money to support yourself and your tiny apartment. How can you expect to pay for two people?

You silently open the door of the little red car your mom had. She had two vehicles, so she always let you use one to go back home whenever she couldn’t take you. At some point later you’d drive it back here, and she typically drove you back home the next day.

“Any specific kind of music you like?” You ask him as he got in the front seat of the car. You were anxiously tapping your fingers against the steering wheel.

“…Napstation.” He says. Luckily, there happen to be a radio station dedicated to napstations songs only. He had become quite popular over the past two years, even after collars, and was one of the few respected monsters.

The rest of the ride home was silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, you made it to the end of chapter two ^^ Thank you so much  
> Don't be afraid to comment! Comment errors or how to improve my writing, or you can comment on how much you liked/disliked this chapter 
> 
> My tumblr:  
> https://skeletonbrothersreptilelovers.tumblr.com/


	3. Awkwardly Stressful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, you think you’d have more class. Your awkward fumbling and mumbling had probably left a bad impression.  
> “Nah, it’s just made a worse impression of yer already bad impression.”  
> Ouch. Understandable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry guys! I really meant to have this finished sooner. I started on this a few days after the second chapter, but I kept getting dragged away for different reasons. I have good and bad news though!  
> Good news, summer time! Now the only thing that'll keep me away from writing is jobs, friends, and lack of motivation.  
> Bad news, this chapter isn't great. I tried my best, but I'm not the best writer. I keep trying to write past tense when I want to write present tense, so you'll see that switch a lot. I tried to go through it and fix it anywhere I noticed I wasn't using the correct tense. Also, I think I went to into to much detail about things? Like, how the apartment and stuff looked on the outside. I realize I might be doing that so I tried to tone it down when I went into describing the interior. I'm sure there are other things, but that's what I know for sure I was struggling with.  
> I really need someone who wants to read each chapter before it's posted and point out any and all errors. So if anyone wants to do that, just ask!  
> Anyways, I should be able to post regularly now. At least once a week as I promised before.  
> Thanks for reading to chapter three and please enjoy!  
> My tumblr is https://skeletonbrothersreptilelovers.tumblr.com/ and I have a picture on there of the apartment layout if anyone would rather have a visual!

Honestly, you thought the ‘awkward car rides with strangers’ days were behind you. You still could feel the awkward twinge in your chest whenever you thought about the days you didn’t own a vehicle. You used to get rides from coworkers or a friend of a friend, and your social skill was amazingly horrible at the time.

Your social skill never improved from that time apparently – or maybe it did. Perhaps it was just the whole situation that made it awkward and not your social skills. After all, your social skill wasn’t half bad two days ago (minus drunken social skills).  Either way, the car ride home was the most awkward and tense situation you’ve been in years.

You park your mom’s car in the free parking spot given to the tenants of your building. It wouldn’t have been concerning that your spot was free if it weren’t for the fact that you owned a motorcycle, which meant it was probably still at the bar from yesterday. You’ve done this more times than necessary, and no one has stolen it, but you always get anxious whenever you realize it isn’t in your spot. It was such an easy vehicle to steal, with or without the keys. You feel in your jean’s pocket and let out a sigh of relief at the cold, rough metal that rubs against your palm; both because that meant you had your motorcycle keys – which made it slightly more difficult to steal – and because your house key was attached to the keychain with it.

You turn the engine off and fiddle with your keys in your pocket for a few seconds, anxiously chewing on your bottom lip in thought. You aren’t sure this was the best idea, but what else are you suppose to do? You felt anxious about sharing your room with a stranger – monster or not – but you also knew you didn’t have many other options. At least, not morally good options. You let your head fall against the steering wheel with a small thud and let out a quiet sigh.

“Are we goin’ in or what?” You tense with alarm at Papyrus’s words, forgetting he was in the car with you despite him being the reason you’re stressing in the first place. You slightly turn your head to look over at him. His expression hasn’t changed since you left your mom’s house. You don’t think it has changed much since you’ve seen him besides three times; When he was about to be struck by your uncle, when he was staring you down, and when he glared at your uncle. Those times have only been a brief second though.

“Uh… Yeah, sorry. Yeah, we are.” You clear your throat awkwardly before opening the car door. The apartment building – it looked more like a motel with big rooms – was only three stories high with five apartments each and was very old – and not the nice old like your mom’s house. The brick wall was crumbling in some spots, the green-painted metal staircase and railing had more than half of its faded-color paint chipped off and was rusting, weeds are growing through the cracks of the parking lot, and the roof tiling was chipping and had seals from poor attempts at stopping leaks. Honestly, it was pitiful. However, the landlady was a sweet, old widow who didn’t make enough money to fix it all.

You live on the second floor, which you're thankful for because You walk up the rickety stairs without much thought, some of your stress relieving just by the sound of the whiny creaks each step give. The familiar sound probably should concern you, but you’ve grown use to the sound over the years and meant home is only a few steps away. You allow a small smile to form on your face at the sound of children laughing. The one thing you enjoy about your apartment was the playground in the back that children always filled with play and laughter. The balcony connected to your apartment has the perfect view of the playground, and you always go out to enjoy the peacefulness that goes along with seeing and hearing the children’s playful banters.

You wish you had that when you were younger.

You shake yourself from that train of thought before you could go any deeper. Now wasn’t the time for that. You turn around to see if Papyrus was still following you, worried that maybe he wouldn’t walk up the sketchy staircase. To your surprise, he wasn’t there at all. Did he decide to test his chances at running away from you?

“Whatcha lookin’ for?”

“Shit!” You yelp and jump back when you hear the newly familiar voice from behind you. Your back slams into the railings which gives a loud groan of protest at the weight and look at the skeleton wide-eyed. You wouldn’t have been so startled if it weren’t for the fact he wasn’t there two seconds ago.

“Holy... Please, don’t do that. You’ll give me a heart attack.” You huff, cheeks redding in embarrassment. You probably should question how he managed to get their so fast without you noticing, but you’re more concerned by the fact that you just made a fool of yourself – again – by reacting so skittish.

“And here I thought humans were heartless. Guess I wouldn’t know, considerin’ Ima skeleton n’ all.” He says wryly. You don’t know how to respond to that with words, so you give him a small, strained laugh. You knew what he was implying behind the joke and probably should be offended considering what you were doing for him was the opposite of being heartless (okay, maybe you were a little offended), but you also understand he has been through a lot. You would dub all monsters – even the kind ones – as heartless if they had done the same thing to the human race.

You’ve done something similar before after all, so you would know.

Your room is 2b, three rooms away from the staircase. The wooden door use to be a solid pearl white color, but now it’s a dingy white that has chipped away in some places. At least it is sturdy so no one could break it down easily.

You go to pull your keys out of your pocket, but they get caught on your jeans which causes them to slip out of your grip and onto the floor. Flustered, you quickly bend down to pick them up, refusing to look at Papyrus. You fumble with your keys and lock; first, you pick the wrong key and then you have trouble getting the correct key into the lock for a second.

You aren’t normally this clumsy. In fact, you are rarely ever clumsy, so you’re a little concerned about yourself. It means your nerves are getting the best of you. It’s understandable, considering it was barely even midday yet and you’re already close to having a mental breakdown. You take a deep breath and carefully put the keys in the lock, successfully unlocking your door. You give yourself a mental back on the back for completing a basic task that should’ve been a lot easier than it was.

The inside is a lot different from the outside. It’s where all of the landlady’s money went when it came to repairing things. She says that people would rather have nice insides and crappy outsides than the opposite. She wasn’t wrong. 

The room isn’t grand in any aspect, but it is nice. The floor is sienna hardwood in the kitchen through the hallways, but the living room was a simple, cheap tan carpet that was cut off from the kitchen. The walls are mostly white besides the few stains here and there. The decoration isn’t much either, only a couple of pictures of you, your mom, and both together – you didn’t have many knickknacks. You have a worn-down old cream-colored couch with faded stains that you should probably get rid of, but it was so comfortable that you haven’t bothered (plus you rarely ever – if ever – have company, so you didn’t see the reason at getting a new couch). There’s a matching chair for the couch that’s a lot worse off. There is also an old brown coffee table, smallish to medium sized TV that covered the window to the parking lot, and a shelf with movies and games (you could no longer play because you didn’t own the console anymore).

The kitchen, which is right beside the living room, has the same colored walls, just with a lot more stains. The kitchen is small, but it has what you need; old stove, fridge, and counters. It’s too small to fit a dining area, so you eat in the living most of the time. The only storage space you have is also in the kitchen, but you chose to use it for food (and a couple of cleaning supplies).

“Home sweet home.” You mumble when you walk through the door. You wish you felt the normal instant relief of walking through those doors, but you don’t. You did feel a tiny bit more comfortable being somewhere safe at least.

You remove your shoes and place them on a small mat close to your door. You want to ask papyrus to do the same because you hate sweeping, but stop yourself before you do. What if he takes offense at you setting rules? Especially after just walking through the door. You decide to let it drop for now and let him settle in, and then you’ll bring up the house rules.

“So, this is my home. Your home now, I guess? That’s if you want it to be,” you pause to glance at him, but he doesn’t react in any way to your words, “anyways, you can do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t involve anything breaking. I really can’t afford to replace everything in the house.” You could probably ask your mom to help replace things if that did happen, but you would rather not do that. You dislike that you rely on your mom at all, but you especially hate relying on her financially. 

“Glad ya think so highly of me.” He says, slightly raising his eyebrow at you, the only change in his expression since your moms. It quickly turns blank again.

“That’s… That’s not what- I didn’t say that. I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t think you’d break stuff, at least not purposely. I just meant to be careful.” You quickly backtrack what you said. You hadn’t meant it that way.

He only gives you a small ‘mhm’ in reply, and you sigh in response.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way.” He doesn’t respond at all this time, so you sigh again. You begin to fiddle with your hands nervously. You felt incredibly awkward and unsure as to what to do.

“Anyways… Um, this is the kitchen, and that is the living room. Feel free to watch TV or get food whenever you like. Uh actually, are you hungry right now?” You ask, then immediately feel unsure. Do skeleton monsters even need to eat? Was it rude to assume they do? Was it rude to assume they didn’t? Would it be rude to ask?

“Yes, I do eat,” he puts a hand up before you could respond to him, “I can read yer face, plus ya humans are all tha same. Yer uncle didn’t think I needed ta eat either.”

You feel guilt swell within you. Sure, it wasn’t your fault your uncle was a complete asshole, but you still feel a little at fault.

“Then you can eat whatever you like.” You gesture towards the kitchen. You didn’t have much, mostly snack foods and instant noodles with a few exceptions.

Papyrus narrows his eyes at you slightly. He doesn’t make a move for the kitchen right away, and it confuses you. He admitted that your uncle starved him just a second ago, so you know he had to be hungry. He eventually makes his way over to the kitchen and hesitantly picks up some of your leftover pizza. He watches you suspiciously as he sniffs and checks the pizza. Ah.

“You know, I didn’t know I would be bringing home anyone at all, and you’ve been watching me this entire time. I promise nothing is poisoned.” You figure that must be why he’s hesitating so much. It worries you that he even had to be suspicious of that in the first place.

He finally takes a bite. After that, there’s no more hesitation. He snarfs the rest of the slice, then the rest of the pizza. He gives the canned soda the same treatment after he pulls it out of the fridge. You should probably tell him to slow down before he gets sick, but you don’t think he’d appreciate it (or even listen). Instead, you awkwardly stand there and watch as he eats five slices of pizza in three minutes.

“I’m glad you enjoy pizza. It’s about the only thing I eat if I’m too lazy to make instant noodles.” You chuckle lightly, although it wasn’t a joke. You do order pizza whenever you don’t feel like doing anything or going to your mom’s to eat.

“I was starvin’. Maybe I don’t normally like pizza.” He says as he looks through your fridge for more food.

“Oh. Well, do you like pizza?” You question him.

“… Prefer tacos.” He response without looking at you. You’ll keep that in mind for later.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom after that brief conversation. You felt like you needed to freshen up, and Papyrus most likely would be in the kitchen for a while anyway. You have enough time to clean up.

You honestly didn’t know what to expect to see in the mirror as soon as you walked in. Maybe some blood on your shirt, maybe even a little dirt. Your mom cleaned any blood on your face last night, and the medicine healed your wounds, so you knew you wouldn’t see anything like that. You thought the worst thing would be your unbrushed hair.

You thought wrong.

You felt your skin crawl at the sight of yourself. Mucky stains cover most of your clothing, and your hair was dirty. Worse of all, you finally notice that your gloves have rips on the part that covers your palms. With everything going on, you must not have realized the rips were there.

“Filthy, absolutely filthy and disgusting.” You mumble to yourself repetitively while you remove your gloves. You felt sick and exposed. How could you not have noticed when you woke up? Why did your mom tell you how filthy you were? Filthy. You slept like this. If they saw you like this… You shudder at the thought.

The entire time you’ve been thinking how filthy you’ve been, you were washing your hands in a daze. You don’t even realize it until you reach out to squirt more soap into your hands, only to realize that you’ve run out.

Your hand lingers on the soap while you stare at it, still tightly pressing the top down. You slowly close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. You feel yourself calm down slightly, but not fully. You still felt like something was crawling all over your skin.

You quickly remove the rest of your clothing and take a shower. You try to be quick, but you know you probably aren’t. You spend to much time scrubbing one spot at a time for it to be a quick shower.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been in the shower, but you feel a lot better when you’re out. You feel a little less tense than before, from being dirty and from the stress of the day so far. You’re glad you decided to take a shower. You probably would have been in worse shape if you waited until later to get cleaned up.

You’re also glad that you always keep spare clothes under the sink with the towels. It wasn’t much, just ann old mostly black band tee and jogging pants, as well as extra gloves. You never have company, but it’s a habit to put extra clothes there from when you had a roommate. The extra glove was something you did even before having a roommate, that way you didn’t dirty your hands on the way to the bedroom.

You could get dirty (although it makes you uncomfortable) to a certain extent before freaking out – obviously, how filthy you were earlier was past that extent – but you can’t let things touch your bare hands. You weren’t always like this, you use to play in mud puddles when you were a toddler, but things changed. At least you weren’t as bad as you use to be. Before, you couldn’t handle being dirty in even the slightest way. You were improving, albeit very slowly.

You let out a tiny sigh while pulling on your black fake leather gloves. You should invest in getting real leather gloves, they last longer and don’t tear easily, but you haven’t bothered with it yet. You have a lot of spare gloves right now.

You hum softly to yourself while you head back into the other room. You hope Papyrus didn’t mind that you stepped away to take a shower. You also hope he doesn’t mind that you took forever.

“Took ya long enough.” He says as soon as you walk out of the hallway. He was lounging on your old couch with the TV set to the discovery channel.

“Sorry, I had to take a shower. I didn’t realize how dirty I was.” You say while sitting down and getting comfortable in your reclining chair.

“Fer three hours?” He questions without actual interest. You knew you took long, but you didn’t realize you took that long.

“Oh geez, I took that long? I’m sorry.” You apologize.  He shrugs in response.

“I didn’t really care.” It’s silence after that. You felt really awkward and unsure of what to do next for a while until you finally decide to speak up again.

“I’m sorry. I’m not normally this awkward or bad at conversation. I guess it’s just the whole situation, you know? I’m sure all my fumbling around as made a pretty bad impression.” You chuckle nervously, but he just shakes his head. You felt a little better until he spoke up.

“Nah, it’s just made a worse impression of yer already bad impression.” You felt your entire body flinch. You weren’t sure what you expected him to say. You assumed that your fumbling probably made an undesirable impression, but you didn’t realize he already had a bad impression of you.

“Ya didn’t ask what I wanted, Ya assumed. I probably woulda chose to come here, but ya took the decision away from me. Maybe ya was tryin’ ta help, but yer still just like every other human out there.” He explains, and you instantly felt guilty.

You didn’t mean to take away his decision, but you couldn’t leave him with your uncle. You guess that it really wasn’t your decision to make, as it wouldn’t have been your decision to make if it a human in his place. If someone wanted to stay with your uncle even if he was abusive – not that he would have been if it was human – then you couldn’t stop them.

You want to apologize to him, but you can’t find it in your to speak. Maybe because you know that even if you apologized, it was too late. You can’t take back what you’ve already done. You instead sit in an even more awkward silence than before.

“Um… I-I can show you the spare room now if you want. It’s the only other room in the house so it’ll have to be your room.” You silently curse your first stutter. He doesn’t respond, but he does stand up from his spot on the couch. You take that as a sign of yes.

On the way to the spare room, you point out the bathroom and your bedroom. Your bedroom wasn’t off limits, but you would prefer him not to go in there unless you were in there. You also mention the balcony that’s connected to your room, and you let him know he’s free to go there anytime he wants, whether you’re in the room or not.

“This is the spare room. Sorry, the paint and stuff are from my old roommate. I never bothered to repaint it because I didn’t plan on getting another roommate. We can go get some paint of your choice later if you plan on staying that is.” You lean against the door frame, glancing around the room. It was painted black with a couple of white musical notes put randomly. The carpet was the same carpet as the living room.

“If I plan on stayin’? I have’a choice?” You aren’t sure if he’s saying that due to before, or if he’s genuinely asking if he has a choice. You choose to believe it’s the later whether it is or not.

“Yeah, of course. It would be hard for you to be out on your own, but I could get permission for you to get a job. I’d… I’d have to write permission for you to leave, and any place you get would have to be in my name since monsters can’t rent or buy land.” You explain, already feeling guilty that he’ll still need your permission even if he decides to go out on his own.

He remains silent for a while, and it takes you a while to realize he’s studying you out of the corners of his eyes. You feel yourself tense slightly, already feeling awkward at being watched.

“…Thanks, but I think I’ll stay here. Less work that way… Unless you plan on making work for you?” He shrugs his shoulders when you shake your head, “See? Easier to stay here.”

“Alright, well, you’re welcome to do that too. Like I said, we can go to the store later on and get you some paint. You can decorate your room, but it might take a while. I don’t make a lot of money, so I can’t afford to buy everything at once. I’ll do my best though.” The best is all you could give. He doesn’t respond to you in any way, simply plops down on the bed that your roommate left behind. You had to replace the sheets since they did take those with them, but you kept it matching by buying black sheets.

“If you need anything, I’ll most likely be in my room if you can’t find me in the living room.” You say before gently closing the door.

You quickly make your way to your room. As soon as the door shuts, you let out a huge sigh. You don’t know what you got yourself into, but you’re already regretting it. Well, you don’t regret helping out Papyrus, but you just dislike the situation in general. While you’re thinking, you pull the sheets back and climb into bed.

How are you even going to afford it? You can barely afford to live by yourself, let alone taking care of a whole other person who doesn’t plan on getting a job. You did have that bad up money in case you ever got it bad, but you really didn’t want to dig into that yet. You want to say it until you absolutely need it. You bury your face into your pillow and curl up under the blankets.

Also, you don’t have a lot of food options. You went to your mother’s to eat most the time or ordered pizza, and if you were too lazy to drive and couldn’t afford it then the instant noodles are there. However, you can’t force your mother to cook for another person so often and you can’t force Papyrus to eat instant noodle every day. You’ll have to get more groceries, which you didn’t budget for. You let out another big sigh.

You’ll deal with it tomorrow. There is to much stress going on in one day. You don’t even care that it’s the middle of the day most likely. You felt exhausted. You know it’s from the multiple panic attacks, stress, constant anxiety, and the whole situation in general, and that even if you sleep now it will still be there tomorrow. You can’t find it in you to care at the moment.

Somehow, despite it all, you fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading to the end <3  
> Please don't hesitate to comment, whether it's to point out an error or to just say hi! I'll always do my best to respond ^^

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading all the way to the end ^^  
> Please, comment what you thought. I would love to hear your opinion.  
> Share any errors you find so I can go back and fix it.


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